


An absence of light

by That_awkwardanimephan



Series: The bliss of normality (A.K.A. team Voltron have some problems they need to resolve) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Awkward Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Character Study, Comfort, Confessions, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression, Dissassociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Fear, Fear of Death, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hope, Hopeful Ending, How Do I Tag, Hurt, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Titles, Idiots in Love, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Insecurity, It Gets Better, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) Has Issues, Lance (Voltron) Has Panic Attacks, Lance (Voltron) Has Self-Esteem Issues, Lance (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is So Done, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Lance Is Smart, Lance has feelings, Lance misses his family, Langst, Love, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, One Shot, One Shot Song Challenge, Other, Panic, Panic Attacks, Rating For Often Talk Of Death, Rating for often talk of panic attacks, References to Depression, Sad lance, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Sentient Voltron Lions, Short, Short One Shot, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Soft Keith/Lance (Voltron), Tags Are Hard, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Lance (Voltron), Voltron, Why Did I Write This?, Xenophobia, everyone is oblivious, fear of darkness, fear of the unknown, heavy read, its intense, keith doesnt know, keith is TRYING, klance, lance is kind of picked on, lance needs a therpist, lance would follow keith across the universe, neglected, not canon compliant for season eight because that didnt happen, s7, self deprecating lance, that should be a tag, the team is kind of mean to him, theyre kinda bad friends, this is deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-04 20:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_awkwardanimephan/pseuds/That_awkwardanimephan
Summary: The whole team knew that the only time Lance wasn't being his normal,  goofy self was when he was having a panic attack.But they had no idea.In which panic attacks keeping him up until 2am are beginning to wear Lance thin,  but the rest of the team still just think he's being overdramatic. At least Keith is there to help.





	An absence of light

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING  
> This story does contain many mentions of death, the fear of death and the unknown, anxiety, depression, panic attacks and the fear of darkness!!! The whole one-shot is basically about Lance having panic attacks, so if that is a trigger for you I highly recommend not reading it. There are mentions of plaguing thoughts and death throughout the story, however there is a short bit where Lance goes quite in-depth about having a fear of death and what that entails which I will put a warning before and after so you can skip it if it is a trigger also. 
> 
> This is kind of the second book to a series I am writing, however you don't need to read the first book to be able to read this one. 
> 
> Stay safe and enjoy reading!!!

The team all knew that the only time that Lance wasn’t being his usual, goofy self was when he was having a panic attack.

But they had no idea. 

For Lance,  panic attacks were more than just a once-off thing which someone may have had the bad luck of experiencing, which sometimes came up in conversation, was absent-mindedly joked about or advertised across those lousy websites which _no-one_ visited. For him,  it was...  a problem. A pretty big problem, really. Usually, when he felt himself slipping into an attack, recognised the symptoms of his heartbeat quickening and that _horrible_ churning in his gut beginning, he could ground himself,  stop his mind from falling into that sometimes-inescapable pit which he _knew_ he wouldn’t rise out of anytime soon, say that _no_ ,  this wasn’t happening, that he was safe and warm and happy (well, generally - constantly fighting in a war that was barely your own _tended_ to beat you down pretty often) where he was, curled up into his bed which he tried _so hard_ to associate with a safe place, like he did at home on Earth, but which he _still_ found himself dreading climbing into at night, his current and only association with it being of bad memories and sleepless nights.

But, occasionally, he did slip into a full-on panic attack,  and all that he could do then was try and ground himself, close his eyes and _try_ and control his breathing and skyrocketing heartrate because if he didn't the situation would only get worse and he didn't want to be any more of a burden to anyone so he would just clench his face up and press half-moons into his palms and wait. Because that was all he could do. Wait for the storm to pass. Because by the time he was fully gone if he tried to distract himself... well, it would be futile. Useless.

The team thought that they had seen the worst of it,  but oh boy, were they wrong. Sure, they'd seen him spiral once or twice, heard him gasping for breath because ‘he couldn’t _breathe_ , dammit!’, or seen how his eyes were glazed over in the latest video call, a terrified expression often flitting across his face when he thought no-one was watching. And, of course, they’d occasionally witnessed him having panic attacks before, but those were actually more than likely caused by their newest battle than anything else. Which were new to even Lance, because they certainly weren't what he was used to, and they weren't the type which kept him up at night. Panic attacks which often consisted on him rocking back and forth on the spot, because ‘he had just killed _so many_ without a second thought,’ and ‘ _what_ was he turning in _to_?’.

But those were the only panic attacks that the team had witnessed,  and the only ones which they believed he had.

And he let them! He _let them_ believe that it was just that, only that. That soon enough, he would go back to normal,  goofy Lance,  because he was too scared to say anything else. Too scared to tell them, to face more rejection and judgemental stares and watching the words dissipate on the tips of their tongues, words telling him to _stop being dramatic Lance_ , because they all believed that it was no use, that he wouldn’t listen and would just continue with his behaviour, not taking a second to acknowledge not only that that could just be how the boy was, but also that every thing he did, every joke he made or word he said, was a cry, a _scream_ , for help, because by now he just needed some good friends and a good freaking therapist.

And even if they did believe him, didn’t think he was just being a drama queen, he still didn’t think he could handle it.

Because _everything_ would change.

He could just see it, the sympathetic glances from Hunk, constantly being checked on by Shiro (which, if it was occasional would be appreciated but which he could frankly see growing irritating and degrading), the sudden silence and awkward stares if the already-avoided topic even slightly came up in conversation. The completely pointless and demeaning exclusion from activities which they didn’t think he could handle.

No, he couldn’t tell them.

And really,  the boy found it easier to just let them believe what they wanted to,  to live in their own worlds where Lance was the happy one, even if it was becoming painfully obvious, to Lance at least, that everyday his mask was slipping a little more,  becoming unsteady in his grasp. Because honestly, he didn't know how much more he could handle. The weight of the universe - the literal universe! - sitting on his shoulders was enough,  not to mention his slowly crumbling mental health and his gradual but present disassociation with his team because when it came down to it, how much did they really care about him when they didn't even notice the sadness in his eyes or the lack of gusto behind almost everything he said.

When the truth was that they didn't take a second glance to even try and discern the reason for the bags under his eyes,  the bags which were blamed on his own messy sleep schedule but which were really from him staying awake until his eyes dropped shut and he passed out, phone still in his hand,  because he was too scared to try and go to sleep like a normal person. Because, unbeknownst to the others, every time he closed his eyes and saw black,  the thoughts drifted in,  and he couldn't stop them now,  and he would just lay there,  heart beating crazy fast, mind whirring and sobs threatening to break out.

Because Lance McClain was absolutely terrified of death. Well, not death, really, more-so the unknown. And it was crazy, because he had simultaneously taken and freed so many lives, gone places he would never believe he could, answered questions he hadn’t even fathomed asking.

 

**{If you read the authors note you will know that in the next few paragraphs Lance goes quite in-depth into his fear of death and just the general concept of death. If you need to skip this section, you can begin reading again at the next bold section of text. }**

 

But still, the idea of _death_ , of it all just… stopping… it terrified him. The idea that one day he might night wake up, that he wouldn’t even realise he was dead because it would have just _stopped_ was scary. The idea that he could die without being able to say goodbye to everyone he loved – his mum, dad, all of his brothers and sisters. The team, as much as they annoyed him. Keith. It hurt to think about. What was even worse for Lance, however, was the prospect of the unknown. _No-one_ , unless they were dead, knew what happened after death. No-one at all. The fact that there were so many beliefs and religions, whether it be in heaven or science or spirits or anything, something which may have been comforting for some, was confusing for Lance. He grew up loving science and learning the supposed science behind death, but his family were very spiritual, and at family gatherings Lance often found himself trying to ignore both the dread and confusion simultaneously making themselves known in his mind because it was just _all too confusing._ It left his mind reeling because he _didn’t_ know the truth, no one did _._ And that that would never change, or at least wouldn’t change for hundreds of years, way beyond his lifetime.

The fact was that Lance knew that the human race, Earth, even the universe, would change and bloom in so many unthinkable ways in the future, especially due to the introduction of the Galran and Altean tech, and that he would probably live long enough to see only so many of those things happen before he closed his eyes for the last time, that was also another thing he longed to be able to think peacefully over and marvel at, instead of having an attack at the idea of.

And that was something else that scared him, that soon, so many, maybe not himself (although the human race could live for thousands of years if they did it right, who’s to say that Lance the Paladin of Voltron would be spared a second thought in the future), but certainly others, probably his mum once his family died or his great aunt Susanna or his other gay cousin Timmy, would die, would be forgotten, nothing more than stories and nothing less than a fading headstone, soon to be forgotten as just another great-great grandparent.

It seemed that every time he thought about it (unfortunately, almost every night), it hit him like a ton of bricks that one day he _would die_ , that he was going along, living his life as a mortal with only so long to truly live. Although that wasn’t to say that the boy would like to live forever too, for the idea of infinity scared Lance also, positively frightened the ever-loving hell out of him! The idea of just... existing forever, whether it be throughout the universe, watching other people around him _living_ while he slowly lost his sanity as he watched the world collapse as the sun reached the end of its life-span, or be it in a dark void absent of all life and colour, _petrified_ him, the idea of living that long without being a tangible being, was… intense, especially if he considered he would possibly be without other people in that trip. And there was yet another thing! His mum was the one person he relied on the most! She was his rock, how he was supposed to go through any journey if there was a life after death without her was beyond him, made him want to cry at the prospect.

 

**{You can begin reading again here:)}**

 

To Lance, all of this tied into the singular idea of the fear of the unknown. Xenophobia, or the ‘unknown phobia’, they called it. Lance called it useless – _and unwanted_.

And in bed, where he was supposed to be going to sleep, he would close his eyes, and the darkness would remind him of _all of it_ and he would begin thinking until he began thinking too deeply and the thoughts wouldn’t stop surging in, leaving him shaky and more awake than he had been before.

So, he would go back to his phone,  distracting himself until he _knew_ he had to sleep or else the next day he would be able to function even less than normal, and even then, he often cradled his phone to his chest, not wanting to let go of it in fear of those first tendrils of panic slithering in.

Lances phone, it seemed, was like a lifeline to the boy; the only thing protecting him from his own mind, always there, ready to be hastily picked up and unlocked as its owners eyes sprung open in fear, petrified by the thoughts invading his conscious, instead of charging on his bedside table where it was supposed to be.

Some nights were good for Lance, the logic that the phone held tightly in his palm would protect him from his thoughts somehow having a psychological effect on his mind, something which let the boy sleep until the blaring, _horrible_ sound of Pidge, Hunk and himself ~~singing~~ screaming a song for Keith that was his alarm woke him up, even then mere hours after he hit deep sleep. Others, however, kept him up until dawn,  and on those days, he would get up with black rings around his eyes and a phone at 5 percent because _what else could he have done?_ The only other thing to really do was let those thoughts in, let them plague his mind until he had to turn on the fairy lights - which he had found at the space mall – in his room, so then he could at least struggle to control his breathing and keep the noise down while not drowning in the thing he was beginning to dread perhaps almost as much as the unknown.  

Darkness.  

To Lance, darkness, was so much more than the simplistic idea of the absence of light, held a deeper meaning than just not being able to see. For Lance, darkness represented everything bad in the world(s),  many of which he’d had the unfortune of experiencing; anxiety,  depression, hatred to everyone who didn’t fit into the bracket of society, fighting,  killing,  war,  hate,  rejection. Everything.

And perhaps the worst thing about darkness was that, in the darkness of his sleeping quarters, staring into the darkness, eyes wide ope but failing to take in any light, leaving him close to blind, he was only reminded more of death, an that, maybe, this was what it was like to die, to float around in eternal darkness, conscious but not really there.

It was a never-ending cycle, and Lance _hated_ it.

And when Lance stayed up late, managed only one or fewer hours of sleep, that was when he spiralled. When the smallest comment, something as simple as a funny joke aimed towards him, or even an off glance could set off Lance and cause him to not only spiral into internal panic because _what did he do wrong?,_ but also into a deep depression which he could almost never get himself out of, and often just had to deal with until it went away, hoping more and more each day that that sadness and self-destructiveness would just _stop_.

Those depressive states usually consisted of Lance just… being sad, in general really. Not caring for his wellbeing. Being lonely. Missing… well, everyone that seemed to wholly and devotedly care about and _for_ him. Feeling worthless, unwanted, unneeded.

Before Keith returned, Lance often found himself in these states. Because, well, panic attacks weren’t the only thing plaguing him. Often, he would find himself up late at night, although hours before he would actually be falling asleep, questioning not only his place in the universe, but how worthful he was to it too.

He often considered the latter to be not much.

If not smart (which he was), Lance could sincerely say that he was a realistic guy, and so, subconsciously, he _knew_. He knew that those thoughts, those horrible, plaguing thoughts, were often incorrect. Knew that he was a paladin of Voltron, _chosen_ _to be_ , something which was supposedly very rare. But, he also knew that he had already swapped lions once, - and with little trouble mind you – so really, how rare could being ‘chosen’ be. It would be perfectly easy to find a replacement for him. Hell, Red would take back Keith in a heartbeat! He knew this, because, despite her comfort in his times of need, and their ever-strengthening bond, Red wasn’t the same as Blue, and that day, when Keith has his... ‘meltdown’, per say, and Keith and Red were reunited for a small moment, he had felt their connection, and a sense of completion and fulfilment across his bond, something which he had never experienced alone with Red.

Really, as straining on the team as it was, it really was fate that Keith had decided to leave for the blade when he did, because if he didn’t, Lance thinks that he probably would have left the team; maybe joined the rebel fighters to help them out instead, still doing his part for the universe. The team would replace him, Shiro could have lead Voltron, Keith his right-hand man. Maybe then, they would have figured out that the Shiro who had returned was different – a clone – way earlier than they had. Keith certainly would’ve noticed something was up, at least long before Lance did. They would continue, probably be better, without him, with someone who could actually do the job, well, _well_.

Lance knew he didn’t have much of a skillset for being a Paladin, and apart from enthusiasm and some good shooting skills what was he really useful for? Sure, he had the ability to come up with some pretty good on-the-spot pick-up lines, and could milk a cow and create a mighty fine milkshake in minutes, but flirting with the Galra over a nice drink wasn’t going to end a 10 000-year-old war now was it? Lance hated it, the others being such geniuses while he constantly found himself sitting at the kitchen table, _trying_ to wrap his head around just _what exactly_ the others were talking about, only getting it when they were halfway through their next conversation, only being met with rolls of the eyes as he fruitlessly asked what they were talking about now. It made him feel so _small_ , so _insignificant_. Like he was this dumb, inconvenient child that they just _had_ to put up with for the time being until they could abandon him on Earth, where he would become a _farmer_ or something stupid like that, while they would go on to do things which he would never dream of doing.

Yeah, it sucked. 

Lances relationships with the other members of team Voltron seemed to be reaching a breaking point, and the boy felt like the paladins were treating him – and _only_ him, he had found - more like an unwanted acquaintance than their friend and teammate.

Lance had come to notice that in conversations, even if there were only three or four people conversing, he was constantly talked over or ignored, and anything he said, any question asked or opinion voiced, would be scoffed at, like he was below them, and anything he said or thought was idiotic. It was like he was constantly being disregarded, in every single way. Even Pidge and Hunk, who he used to think of as his best friends, had started leaving him out of things, whether it be fixing up a broken robot or simply a game of Uno, just because, well, he didn’t even know anymore. Was his presence, his personality, too overwhelming? Maybe. Was it just because they no longer liked him as a person? It was possible. Was he just... too dumb for them now, not interesting, nor useful? Probably.

And maybe it was just Lance, maybe he was just being too sensitive, but it seemed that they were constantly picking on things about him, an imperfection or flaw that he might have off-handily commented about but which was actually a sensitive topic. It was like, they never truly _saw_ him, the boy was constantly trying to drop hints or cries for help, but they were never picked up on and every time they made a small joke about him, about something he couldn’t help, it hit home, tore him apart, because he couldn’t do anything about it, and he didn’t want to change his whole person just so his friends would stop making jokes about him. It was those comments which left him so depressed some – most-  of the time, along with the sleep deprivation, because they were constantly swirling in his head, further meeting in that small voice that told him that he wasn’t good enough, that the team would do perfectly without him.

Lance had found himself becoming increasing annoyed at the other paladins for the way they were treating him, had found himself starting to viciously snap at them if they tried to talk to  him, which even then was usually just someone asking for him to do something, instead of them actually _wanting_ to spend time with him. Or, if he wasn’t snapping at the team, he had found himself simply ignoring them multiple times, only interacting with them when he had to.

Lance knew that, while they were still being completely horrible friends, the others probably didn’t mean it, to hurt and ignore him and completely disregard his feelings. That they probably weren’t even aware of their own actions.

And Lance knew that, but it still didn’t stop him. Lance hated that side of himself, that side which was so neglected and lonely that it had turned completely toxic. And he was terrified that, if he was going to be out here, in space, the closest to alone which he had been in a long time, that side of him would take over, turning him into a horrible, toxic person, because he didn’t want that. Sure, his friends were hurting him, but he didn’t want to hurt them back, that would just make him a hypocrite.

He missed his family so much, missed the warmth of his parents hugs, the hustle and bustle of the house in the morning, so different to the deafening silence of the castle. His missed being around people who loved him for him, and didn’t expect him to change.

He had felt so neglected while Keith was gone, off with the blade, when everyone had seemingly decided to partner off and leave him alone. He had become touch starved because the others would simply shrug him off if he ever tried to do something even as simple as give them a celebratory hug after a mission. This was, of course, minus Keith, who secretly loved the affection but even so was incredibly awkward, what with not having had much affection in his life. It had become a bit of a habit, really, for Lance, amusedly watching Keith try and be affectionate but really having no idea what he was doing, waiting for Keith to give up and ask for help.

Keith.

It had been a few months since Lance had actually properly confessed his feelings and the two had started dating, and Lance could very nearly say that he loved Keith with his whole heart, because really, the boy was his shining beacon of light in all this mess.

Keith knew.  About all of it.  He knew about the panic attacks and the hate and the sadness. Why he didn't want the rest of the team to know,  the fear that came from even the idea of them knowing.  Keith would always be the one to talk Lance down after a battle, or,  whenever he could see the boy was feeling bad, he'd often take him to a quiet place away from the others, and just sit there with him,  his presence always comforting. Or when they were in their lions and he couldn't do that,  he would hack the system and create a private video link with Lance and talk to him for hours about the most random and useless of subjects,  always being sure to make as many offhand comments as possible about how much Lance was needed and wanted and loved,  because even though the boy wasn't that good at comfort,  he was going to try his best, and it warmed Lances heart like nothing else.  

Of course, Lance would return the favour too, when Keith was feeling particularly down, and Lance would cuddle with him or joke around to cheer the boy up, feeling only _slightly_ victorious when he did just that.

The best thing for Lance was probably when,  whenever the team landed on a friendly or abandoned planet,  how Keith would clamber his way up into Red,  or sometimes Lance would bunk in Black,  and they would lie together,  talking about anything and everything until a yawn would escape from Keith, the paladin tired out of his mind but still trying to stay awake,  and he would see the badly hidden fear flash across Lances eyes. Understanding as ever,  it was times like this that Keith would abandon his angsty emo trademark and wrap Lance in his arms,  whispering sweet nothings or simply just singing a lullaby to the boy next to him until he fell asleep, too distracted by the warmth engulfing him for anything else. 

Lance loved those nights, when he could fall asleep so easily. When he could wake up in the mornings, well rested for once,  and find himself still wrapped up in the warm embrace of his boyfriend,  blankets a tangled mess at the bottom of their makeshift beds,  Keith's breath tickling his neck but the boy himself looking way too peaceful (and, frankly, adorable) to wake yet.  

Lance wasn't lying when the team were trapped in that game show, he thought Keith was the future.

His future.  

One day,  maybe,  when all of this was over,  if they managed to win the war and survive, Lance hoped that he could live the rest of his life with Keith, that he could love this man, who had stolen his heart, for the rest of eternity, maybe take him back home, all the way to Cuba, to meet his family, and after that Keith could take him to the old shack so that Lance could see, _really see_ , it. Maybe they’d get jobs at the Garrison, teaching the next generation, or they’d go back to space, helping everyone out there. Or maybe they’d get married, maybe adopt a kid, make sure that they could have everything the two of them couldn’t have.

But in all truth, Lance didn’t care, because no matter where fate led them, he would, quite literally, follow Keith across the universe.

So for now, all he could do was hope.  

(And, well, win an intergalactic space war.) 


End file.
